Chapter 25

Vivianna

His lips seemed to radiate electric currents. Sparks alighted wherever he placed them on my skin, sending delicious sensations deep into my core.

As his head settled between my thighs, I stiffened. But then all it took was his tongue lapping over my swollen bud for me to fall under a blissful spell. It felt like a flower that just kept growing and showering me with warmth.

His tongue twirled and fluttered like he was feasting on a treat. My legs trembled, and a hot wave surged through me, for that was a million times more intense than my finger.

Arching my back, I climbed to a rosy peak and exploded. If I thought that was it, I was in for a big surprise, because just after I’d taken off, another sensation even greater arrived until I couldn’t take it anymore.

The intensity of the orgasm that blasted through made me scream. All the while he fondled my tits.

I just wanted him to do anything and everything to me.

And then he placed his finger at the entrance of my slit.

My body felt loose like on a hot summer’s day.

As his finger slid in, a mixture of subtle pain and pleasure pulsed through me. Everything felt so tender.

“You’re so tight.” He touched his dick, and my mouth watered.

He removed himself and looked at me. His eyes dark and hooded. His dick had gone purple and rock-hard. The veins throbbing.

My heart raced. I could hear it pounding in my ears.

Was that fear or arousal?

Both.

Only one man had placed his finger inside of me and that had turned my teen years into a nightmare. Nightmares that I still experienced whenever men looked at me.

Every male except Damon. That’s why this burning need sweeping through my body confused me.

I squirmed and he stopped, pulling out his finger. His brow creased, but his eyes still smouldered.

“Am I hurting you?”

Biting my lip, I felt a lump in my throat.

Oh no, not fucking tears.

I don’t cry.

When do I cry?

I rose. “I just need the bathroom.” I scurried off on the warm wooden floor.

One could walk barefoot in billionaire’s homes and not feel the icy sting of poverty. Abstract thoughts like that pumped through me, clashing with deeper questioning voices.

Am I really about to go all the way?

The tightening in my veins. The doubts in my head. All adding up to one very fucking confused girl.

Woman not girl, I reminded myself.

I am a woman who is about to fuck her boss.

I sat on the toilet and cried. I can’t say whether the orgasm had opened me up or his finger entering me had brought up memories of my monster stepfather. It all just flooded out of me.

Five minutes later, I stepped out. Naked and clutching my arms. Damon was in bed, sitting up looking concerned.

“Are you okay? I heard crying.” He tapped the bed. “Sit for a moment. We don’t have to do anything.” His eyes shone with affection which took me aback.

How could he be so compassionate at a time like this? I would have thought fucking me was his only concern.

He rose, grabbed a robe from the armchair and placed it over me. “You look cold.”

I gave him a tight smile. “Thanks. That’s so understanding of you. I’m so sorry to do that. In the middle of that moment…”

Wearing a sympathetic smile, he shook his head. “I get it. This is a big thing for you. I only hope I didn’t hurt you.”

“No. You didn’t. It was amazing. I mean, I’ve never experienced anything like that.” I smiled coyly. “With your tongue. I came more than once.”

His lips tugged at one end. “You’re very responsive and tasted divine.”

I had to look away from his soul-piercing eyes.

“Why don’t you just stay? We can cuddle. I’d like that.” He smiled so sweetly, and his tone was gentle and understanding.

I couldn’t believe that anyone could be so selfless. From what I’d read and seen—and yes, I’d watched the odd porno—men needed to get their dicks in any which way.

Damon was not one of those men. Or was he just great at putting it on?

“Nooo...” screamed my intuition.

I slipped back into bed, removed his robe which smelt of his bath soap. A scent that could have doubled as an opiate.

His strong arms welcomed my tight body, and within a second of breathing him in and my cheek on his firm chest, my inner demons faded away.

He stroked my hair and I wanted to cry again.

Swallowing back lumps in my throat, I tried to summon that strong, tough woman I’d always prided myself in being. Where was she?

I never cried when my mother didn’t call me for my birthday. I didn’t even cry when she refused to believe that her husband had tried to fuck me, nor at her suggesting that I’d somehow seduced him. Led him on.

No tears. Just festering anger corroding into cancerous hate.

But here I was with a man I barely knew, despite my heart feeling all cosy, and cathartic tears poured out of me. Shattering that crusty layer to pieces.

What would I find? A frightened child, an angry girl, or an aroused woman?

Could I survive in this world exposed and raw?

As all this crazy shit went around my overactive brain, I pulled an apologetic smile.

“I’m sorry,” I muttered.

“Please don’t be. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want.”

“But that’s the thing. I want to.”

Once again, his eyes trapped mine, and I forgot what I was even saying.

How the fuck does he do that?

Damon could have been a hypnotist.